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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 




Songs of the Neukluk 



Ewen MacLennan and Charles Wilbert Snow 

"Many a wassail bout 
Wore the long winter out." 

Longfellow. 



This volume is privately printed and privately circulated. News- 
paper editors into whose hands it may possibly fall are requested not 
to reprint any of these verses without first writing to the authors for 
permission. 

Council, Alaska, May 15, 1912. 




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Copyright, 1913 
By CHARLES WILBERT SNOW 



DEC 27 1913 



M .^ ^ € 
e::i.A;i58907 



FOREWORD 



^i N an Alaskan mining camp work in the winter is, for the most part, 
I necessarily suspended. People are thrown completely on their 
own resources; and whatever substitutes they discover for the drama, 
the grand opera, the art exhibit, the cafe, and other like diversions 
that mean so much to winter life on the "Outside" they must dis- 
cover within themselves. 

The people of Council — and this is said without boasting — have 
probably learned, as well as have the people of any small mining camp 
in the North, to adjust themselves to the conditions of the long Arctic 
winter. In theu- social and intellectual life they are continually occu- 
pied. Any unusual event on the trail or in camp is made the occasion 
for a winter gathering where self-expression is developed and good 
fellowship distributed. This volume is but one of the outlets Council 
has found for itself during the winter of 1911-12. Many of the verses 
in this volume will mean little or nothing to an outsider. To those on 
the inside, however, we trust that this booklet will be regarded as a 
suitable souvenir to recall the comradeship of an agreeable winter. 

THE AUTHORS 
May 15, 1912. 




CONTENTS 

Page 

Alaska in Vvinter— C. W. S 1 

A Bear Fight Under Difficulties— E. M 3 

The Ballade of the Gin Fizz Route— C. W. S 6 

An-neoh, Arctic Spirit of the Snows — E. M 7 

Reindeer Song— C. W. S 10 

Dog Song— C. W. S 11 

Mariar Jane — E. M 12 

The Eskimo's Confession— C. W. S 16 

An Octurn— E. M 17 

The Malemute Chorus— C. W. S 20 

To an Iconoclast— C. W. S 21 

Rocker Lullaby— E. M 22 

ToMy Lady of the Frontier— C. W. S 23 

What's Madder'n a Wet Hen?— E. M 24 

Verees Thanking the Ladies for Hanging Curtains in the A. B. Hall 

— C. W. S 25 

Under the Pangingui Palms — E. M 26 

TotheExponentof the Half Jag— C. W. S 28 

Farewell to Alaska— C. W. S 30 



Alaska in Winter 



ALASKA IN WINTER 

/^ curse on him who drones a dirge 
fi^\ About the Alaskan wintry spell 
In which men lose the finer urge, 
And grapple with a frozen hell. 

The grand truth is that those who dare 
To break the ties of life behind 

And cUmb the Northland's golden stair 
A fresher type of freedom find. 

The liberty that breathes among 
The immaculate spaces of the night 

Speaks with a God-inspired tongue 
Of silence to our being's height. 

The crystal stars that twinkle down 
Their brilUance on the seas of snow 

Have loved no land with such renown, 
And granted none such radiant glow. 

The fingering sunsets that have spread 
Their glory in the western sky 

Have left art's visions cold and dead. 
And drained imagination's dry. 

The Northern Lights that flash and drill 
Like gaudy armies, belly forth v 

A heavenly host of gleams that spill 
Magnificence across the North. 

And who forgets the apple blow 
Displays of pink that tone the trees 

And tundra with a tender glow 
Of frozen, fairy mysteries? 



Alaska in Winter 



Or who forgets some great divide 

Where stretch for miles on either hand 

White peaks whose majesty has cried 
To sleep the rivers of the land? 

And pioneers of quenchless zeal 

Are not compelled to grind and bow 

Vacationless at labor's wheel, — 

But reap these winter glories now. 

Adventurers who keep the trail, 

And frontiersmen who push the race 

Beyond the blundering past's avail, 
Meet new-world-issues face to face. 

They know the restlessness that cures 

Earth's untouched wastes from barren pain; 

They heed the beckoning that lures 
The race to iSnd a happier plane. 




A Bear Fight Under Difficulties 



A Bear Fight Under Difficulties 

Did I ever tole you 'bout dat tam, up on de Chandelar 
Baptiste LeRoque and Joe Brosseau, fight w.d de cmnamon bear? 
Yea' No' I'll tole you now; it's funny, but it s true; 
Dey both is told me lots of tam, just like I tole you 

You see, dey was prospect up de creek, pretty near to de dv.de, 
And Joe, he say, "dere's noting here, let's try de oder side 
"All right," Baptiste say, right away; he was easy-gom man, 
So dey start up for de top de ridge, wid just two shovel and a pan. 

Dey's wall, along de side de clifT, ^^ ^^-^^'^^VrlldTe'reTt":'; 
But plenty rock and not much ^"^-^'r-^'^Z^Mit 
Baptiste, he stop for fix his pipe, and by de trme '* s Wl, 
He's try to overcatch his friend, before de top de hilL 

».....» i. JI hi H., »■! tew t>"-""' ™- 

A.d ,».b.i..d . ...b., •"■ '.fitj^fd a";u, 



A Bear Fight Under Difficulties 



About dis tarn, de rabbeet ron in a great big hollow log, 

And Joe, he's f oiler after him, just like he was a dog; 

For de kow-kow's scarce, de rabbeet's good, and game is hard to find, 

And Joe, of course, got no idee, what's comin' close behind. 

De bear, he start to go in too, dough de hole ain't ver' wide; 

About dat tam, she's lookin' bad for de feller dat's inside. 

He scramble after, tree-halfs in, when Baptiste, he is get dere, 

De rabbeet scoot de oder end; Baptiste, he grab de bear. 

He get him by de hind lag, and dere he hold him so; 

For de hole is tight, and he's strong man, den he hear some yell from Joe, 

"Hello Baptiste, what stop de hole? I say, Baptiste, hello!" 

Baptiste say, "Suppose my hand is sUp, den mighty quick you know 

What stop de hole; de best ting you can do, 

Is come out de same de rabbeet did, or de whole ting's up wid you;" 

And den de bear get plenty mad, he's let a hawful roar, 

Joe make de best tam gettin' out, he ever make before. 

Dere's one tree dere, when Joe climb it, it is so small it bend, 
Baptiste holt slip, de bear crawl troo, and out de oder end; 
He see Baptiste and make for him, dere's no place else to go 
But in de log, and he holler out, "It's your turn, grab him Joe!" 
Joe is true blue partner, and dough he's plenty scare, 
He jomp down off dat tree, in time to catch de bear, 
As he go in de log again to make de second trip, 
And he hold him just so long he can, until he lose his grip. 

Den Baptiste crawl out de oder end, de tree's de only show, 
De bear is right behind him, once more he make for Joe. 
He shake his head and growl some more, just like he try to say, 
"You're hawful smart, but I get you bot', suppose it take all day." 
Four tam, dey make him change partner, till Baptiste begin to swear, 
" Sacre!, I don't come on de Koyukuk, to pay tag wid a bear; 
Nex' tam you have him, brace yourself, and get a better holt, 
I got some scheme, and if it work, we give our friend a jolt;" 



A Bear Fight Under Difficulties 



All troo dis circus bizness, Baptiste is so excite, 
He's hold his pipe-stem on his teeth, aldough he's lose his pipe; 
Nex' tarn, he hurry troo de log; Joe hold de bear until 
Baptiste, he start his end around, for roll it down de hill. 
It's good big Hft, but pretty soon he's get it squared about; 
De bear, he's make a hav/ful fuss, but of course he can't get out. 
For Joe hold on like tug-of-war, till de log begin to roll, 
Den Mister bear, he's got no chance get out on eider hole. 
De boys, dey help de log turn fast, den faster, and ka-biff ! 
It's reach de edge, anoder roll, and jomp right ofif de cliff. 

For tirty feet, dat log don't touch, according to Baptiste; 
And bust up when it strike below, in about a tousand piece; 
De bear, he's all in one piece, but he take a fonny fall, 
He look like dat balloon bizness, is not suit him at all; 
For little while, he's scare, surprise, and ver' much excite. 
But in less dan twenty second, he's gone clear out of sight. 
When dem boys is told dat store, dey always laugh, you bet; 
"Sacre," Joe say, and laugh some more, "I tink he's ronning yet." 




The Ballade of the Gin Fizz Route 



The Ballade of the Gin Fizz Route 

Ulysses' drift through the Cyclades, 

The venture bold for the golden fleece, 
John Mandeville's wild voyages, 

And the Red Sea tale of the Jews' release; 
All fade far, far away and cease. 

And all fleet's colors take a dip 
Before that one supreme emprise — 

The gin fizz route of the Red Cross ship. 

All sails were set to a favoring breeze, 

And we cleared the bar with a round apiece; 
With Captain Curt and his grand Louise 

We were bound to find delights obese; 
The good mate Ramsay sought surcease 

From ocean's woes in the church's grip. 
And Paul's cook fame won great increase 

On the gin fizz route of the Red Cross ship. 

With Riley's wit and Cole's glad ease. 

With our Candle friends in their near-demise, 
With Bob's sweet minstrel melodies, 

And Taggart's voice, — artistic grease; 
With Hazel's frivolous caprice. 

And pilgrim John with staff and scrip, 
A grander crew ne'er 'scaped poHce 

Than the gin fizz crew of the Red Cross ship. 
L'Envoi 
Brave travellers who almost freeze 

On wind-swept tundra, take this tip: 
Come Council-wise and breast the seas 

With the gin fizz crew of the Red Cross ship. 



An-neoh, Arctic Spirit of the Snows 



^ 



An-neoh, Arctic Spirit of the Snows 

was sitting solitary, on a drear December e'en, 
_ Burning incense at the altar of the highpriest, Nick O'Teen; 
As the wreaths of smoke ascended, intermingled with their maze, 
Ghosts of other scenes and fancies, came and vanished in the haze; 
Wraiths of olden time rose round me, dear old faces smiled in mine, 
Bidding me to wander with them, down the lane to Auld Lang Syne. 
And I yielded unresisting, let them take me where they chose. 
Journeyed to the land of Sunshine, left behind the land of Snows. 

Far I fared to distant places. Time and Space were naught to me, 
Mem'ry in her golden chariot winged her flight o'er land and sea; 
While I wandered in the twilight of the days of long ago, 
All unheeded my surroundings, and the midnight oil burned low. 
Till a faint drawn sigh awoke me, summoned back my thoughts once 

more, 
And I saw another presence, standing just inside my door; 
"Who are you and wherefore come you? " to my lips the questions rose, 
Answered, " I am called An-neoh, Arctic Spirit of the Snows. " 

Fair she was, with spectral fairness, pale her hair like moonhght spun 
And the blue glint of the glacier, struck by Arctic winter's sun, 
Was reflected in the azure of her wondrous sad, sad eyes, 
With a weight of patient sorrow of the kind which never dies; 
Loose and filmy was her raiment, irridescent to the sight, 
Like a Grecian garment, fashioned from the loom of Northern Light; 
And I spoke the eerie stranger, "Fain am I that you disclose 
Something of your icy empire, tell me of your realm of snows." 



An-neoh, Arctic Spirit of the Snows 



"Aye", she answered, "tis my empire, and has been since Time's dim 

morn, 
Untold eons I have ruled it; ere your puny race was born; 
Splendid in my isolation, sovereign of a white domain, 
Championed and courted ever by my faithful lovers twain, 
Boreas, the mighty rover, loud of voice and fleet of wing, 
Wooes me with his rough caresses, in his Titan arms I cHng, 
And the Frost King, silent, vengeful, bitterest, deadliest of foes. 
Brings his victims as an offering to my altar of the Snows. 

Ages past, by mortal reckoning, but to me as yesterday. 

Came the men-tribe in their wanderings, tarried 'neath my Arctic sway; 

Short of stature, swart of visage, and to me they seemed akin 

To the seal who fed their hunger, clothed their bodies with his skin; 

Patient, harmless folk, I found them, who have made their home with 

me, 
In their evil-smeUing igloos, by the bleak and wind swept sea; 
Then there came a band of strangers, of a different type from those, 
Daring in their haughty ardor to invade my home of Snows. 

They, the masters of their own world, sought to rear their flag on mine 

Scornful of my silent army; and I read the bold design 

Of these ruddy fair-skinned bravos, who had taken for their goal 

My immaculate Olympus, e'en my throne-room at the Pole. 

Fierce the anger of my henchmen, when the sacrilege they knew, 

Summoned were the Arctic cohorts to repel the vandal crew; 

Ice and Storm and Frost and Hunger, rained their bravest, strongest 

blows, 
Some they slew and some they routed from my kingdom of the Snows. 



An-neoh, Arctic Spirit of the Snows 



They were beaten but unconquered, many times they came again, 
Gaily, dauntlessly returning, from their home beyond the main, 
BattUng with my sentry ice-bergs, who disputed every path, 
Mocked the North Wind in his fury, jeered at his insatiate wrath; 
Till a flood of pity smote me, that this human brood so brave 
Should be doomed to endless warfare, with a glacier for their grave; 
All my enmity abandoned in compassion for their woes. 
And bespoke for them forbearance from my legions of the Snows. 
They in sullen mutinous anger, disregarded my behest. 
Seized for sacrifice the bravest of this eager Northland quest; 
Thus they ambushed gallant Frankhn, and his band of fighting men. 
Without quarter they were vanquished far beyond all human ken; 
In my icy wind-lashed regions by the Polar Ocean's surge. 
Half a century they're sleeping, neath the sea wind's moaning dirge; 
And the resting place of Andre, I and not another knows. 
Till the Judgment morn I hold him in my mantle of the Snows. 

And a latter day invasion, in this restless search for gold. 
Brings an evergrowing army, Hke the fabled knights of old. 
And the golden fleece the object, each one striving for the prize, 
Braver hearts have never struggled underneath my stormy skies; 
I have seen my kinsmen smite them, noted many a dying moan 
When my son, the biting BUzzard, claimed some victim as his own; 
But their splendid courage thrills me, naught will I do to oppose 
Should they seek my Polar palace, in my fastness of the Snows. 

Now I leave you for my journey, longer I may not remain, 
I must visit many places, ere the day-star comes again. 
Boreas, my loyal suitor, is to join me on my way. 
And my trysts with him are sacred, never do I say him nay; 
Over mountain, vale and tundra, we will shame the eagle's flight. 
In our wild mad whirUng revel, and anew our troth we'll pUght; 
Hark! my lover now is calling": as the wind's wild wail arose, 
Vanished like a vagrant moonbeam, pale An-neoh of the Snows. 



10 Reindeer Song 



Reindeer Song 



Tune— "Rainbow' 



\JkT HERE the moss is growing richly on a bank of down, 
Jl\^ Beyond the white hills far away, 
BtoBM Where sparkling sunbeams love to play, 

There dwells a reindeer herd all day; 

There they stand and shine in lovely robes of white and brown. 

And as they graze they droop the head, 

And show great antlers widely spread, 

As o'er the plains they tread. 

(Chorus) 

Come be my reindeer, my pretty reindeer; I love you so, 

Come let us go 

Over the snow; 

On hills of Northland, my reindeer, 

Keep the trail without fear, 

I want you near, my fleet reindeer. 

In the winter when the daylight flees to warmer roofs. 

When stars and Northern Lights command 

The great white silence of the land. 

And Santa comes with loving hand, — 

Then he drives his pretty reindeer with their clicking hoofs, 

And as they come they prance good cheer. 

And drive away the long night fear, 

And bring the Christmas here. 

"Sung by the school children at the native Christmas celebration. 



Dog Song 11 



DOG SONG 



Tune— "Red Wing' 



THERE once was a dog team bold 
In the land of the Arctic cold, 
That loped away one winter's day, — 
Biff, Bang, Wolf, Buck, and faithful leader Tray; 
They knew their master well, 
His slightest wish could tell. 
And at his call they'd straighten all, 
And leap, and bark, and yell. 



(Chorus) 

Oh, the trails are fine across the tundra, 

The dogs are racing, 

The crisp air's bracing; 

F*om the lead to the wheel no dog is failing, 

And we're inhaling 

Alaska's joys. 

When the April daylight came. 

And our minds were all aflame 

With the Sweepstake race whose grinding pace 

Would test dogs, men, — and all to win first place; 

Our dogs kept in the lead; 

With a wondrous burst of speed 

They set the styles four hundred miles. 

And worked their driver's wiles. 



"Sung by^the children at the closing exercises of the native school. 



12 Marlar Jane 



MARIAR JANE 

^ hadn't seen Old Scroggins since along in ninety eight, 

(^ I just come down from Hunker, on the day he pulled his freight 

Out of Dawson, down the Yukon, in an old Lake Bennett boat 

With his dogs and other plunder, about all his craft would tote. 

The main ante in the jack-pot was a dimmyjohn of hootch, 

And the second in the ratin' wuz his faithful pockmarked klootch, 

His "long-haked tilhcum", Mariar Jane, from down the Yukon Flats; 

They wuz a pretty average couple, though they had their family spats. 

The Siwash matron never talks of "goin" home to Ma', 

And I reckon that her family ties, down on the Tanana 

Cut no figger with Mariar, but she shore wuz glad to go; 

P'r'aps the upper river salmon did'nt taste Uke them below. 

Scroggins, too, wuz glad to "klatawa", and he tole me mighty plain 

He wuz sorry he left Circle, and wuz goin' back again. 

First, he barbacued the Klondike in a general sort of way, 

Then he spHt it up in sections, under headin's, so to say; 

For rapid fire profanity, his eloquence wuz swift. 

And when it come to kickin', he worked a double shift. 

He wuz powerful on langwidge, in his own untootered style 

And some of his remarks made me think of the wood-pile; 

For he roasted the offichiuls, and he did the job right well. 

Wished them all a new appointment to the warmest spot in h- -1, 

Then he cussed the royalty, and when I said "onkore", 

He took a chaw of CHmax, and then he cussed some more. 

His opinion of the Recorder, for poUteness, I omit. 

Which the same wuz shared by others, is a fact I must admit : 

But the influx of cheechakos, resultin' from the Klondyke's boom 

With cheechako ways and custums, filled this sour-dough with gloom; 

"Why", he says, "doggone my buttons!, where is all these rabbits from? 

Last year's crop wuz bad enough, and this year still they come; 

There wuz a crowd of three the other day out on Eureka Creek 

And two more shortly after, makin' five inside a week; 



Mariar Jane 13 



People, people everywhere, until a man kain't turn 

Without buttin' into some one; they's people here to burn. 

This country will be overrun the fust thing that you know, 

And a lot of corn-fed yaps will try to teach the Sour Dough 

Civilization's latest knowledge of how placer mining looks 

From the standpoint of the grafter, that writes the ten cent books 

And this stuck-up town of Dawson!, with its highfalutin' airs 

With its churches, banks and papers, and other wicked snares; 

They put on so much agony, it seems to me it hurts. 

And the bar-boys wear white parkies, and gorgus hard-biled shirts 

But worst of all, the Sour Doughs awearin' yaller shoes. 

And when they crook their elbows, they mix water with their booze. 

Then these big two-story cabins, built out of lumber too, 

I call it downright shameful waste, that's just what I do; 

Fancy fixin's on their winders, fancy handles on their doors, 

And I don't suppose in Dawson they's a dozen good pole floors 

I'd like to have these geezers whipsawin' for a while, 

I'd show 'em all the sinfulness of extravagance and style. 

Usin' boards for buildin' houses, when any fool should know 

Sluice lumber's what they're meant for,— well I guess I'll have to go' 

He'd had his kick out by this time, and so the queer old guy 

Shoved his boat out in the current, after tellin' me good-bye. 

Well, I had'nt seen him from that day, till one night here in Nome 

I'd played a stack of rubbers, and was driftin' toward home, 

I stepped into the "Hub" to get a fresh cigar. 

And there wuz old man Scroggins, leanin' up agin the bar. 

"Klehoyah tillicum", I said; "klehoyah Me", says he, 

He was looking pretty much the same, so fur as I could see; 

If he'd staked hisself to mackinaws, in the four years that had passed 

The patterns and the patches too wuz of the same old cast, 

And I'd gamble that his hat wuz the battered old sky-piece 

That he stomped on up in Dawson, when he scrapped with the pohce. 

His whiskers alius looked the same, just streaks of brown and grey 

The brown wuz caused by CHmax dye, the grey in Nature's way 

He had his usual bunch of dogs. Jack, Brandy, Spot and Blue 

And his faithful leader, Towser, the best of all the crew, 

I loosened up and bought a drink, and then we talked a while 



14 Mariar Jane 



Of the doin's up at Circle, and up to Forty Mile; 

We mined the country generally with sluice box and with pan, 

And, of course, at proper intervals, ground-sluiced the inner man. 

When the oil of gladness greased his pipes, he wuz alius at his best, 

I only played a listenin' part; old Scroggins done the rest; 

I think I mentioned somewhere, how he used to kick and cuss. 

If he'd changed in this particular, it shore wuz for the wuss. 

When that old rooster cashes in, if it's on a busy day, 

And old Peter's issuin' wing checks or lookin' t'other way, 

And old Scroggins manages to sneak in through the Pearly Gate 

He'll swear the streets are only brass, and just as shore as fate, 

He'll try to make the angels think their harps are out of toon, 

And that their crowns are counterfeit, or that they fit too soon. 

He roasted everyone and everything till I begin to tire, 

And just to switch the subject, I asked about Mariar. 

He looked at me some solum, and says ''I allowed you knew 

That Mariar chmbed the Golden Stair; I don't mind telling you 

'Twas a mighty sore affliction for me to lose my pard, 

And the way she quit this vale of tears, was particularly hard; 

There's no one now to make my clo'es, since Mariar Jane is dead, 

To kerry water, cut the wood, or help out on the sled; 

When it come to workin' with the dogs, she wuz just as good as two, 

I alius figgered I'd a team, with Towser, her and Blue; 

The hand of death is no respecter of the love of man and wife. 

And the loss of poor Mai'iar, casts a shadder o'er my life." 

His eyes wuz gettin' leaky, and perhaps it wuz a sin, 

But I had to turn my face away to kiver up a grin: 

His "cultus wa-wa," only started me to thinkin' of the day, 

He chased the old gal with an axe, and how she switched the play 

By annexin' of the Winchester, she buffaloed her man. 

When she monkeyed with the lever, old Scroggins "also ran." 

But he seemed to think my emotions a credit to my heart. 

So he nodded to the booze clerk and made another start; 

When the Arctic Panacea had vanished down his neck 

He perceeded with his story and dealt right through the deck. 

"You see," he says, "twas this away, — a year ago last Fall, 

I decided fur to winter just below the mouth of Dahl; 

I knowed I had to get a move on, for 'twas getting' pretty chill, 



Mariar Jane 15 



There wuz shore ice 'long the Yukon, and snow up on the hill; 

You remember that the mountun there is mighty steep and high, 

It looks as if the top of it, reched somewheres near the sky; 

I went up about a mile on it and cut my cabin logs. 

Next day I started out Mariar to haul 'em with the dogs; 

I told her to be keerful when she come about haK way. 

To cut the dogs out, fix her rough-lock, and she'd sail down all 0. K. 

The day afore this, cuttin' logs, I'd worked just like a hoss, 

So I wuz takin' things some easy, and thawin' out the moss; 

I wuz smokin' and athinkin', when I beared a awful yell, 

There was the old gal comin', like a arrow straight from hell; 

She had a skookum load of logs, but I couldn't understand 

With the rough-lock and the gee-pole how it scaped from her command; 

She seemed to be atechin' about every fifty feet. 

And the war whoops she wuz lettin', they shore wuz hard to beat; 

She wuz ridin' on the gee-pole with the rope around her neck, 

I expected every second that the speed would start to check. 

But she kep' comin' faster, and I wuz that surprised, 

I stood there jist agappin' like I wuz paraUzed; 

I'd heard old Jack McQuesten and some other malamutes, 

Tell of a gag in 'Frisco, that they called the "shoot the Chutes," 

I allowed it wuz some speedy, and I don't dispute it still. 

But it wuzn't one, two, seven to Mariar down that hill; 

She shot down past Hke Hghtnin', and 'fore I could move or think 

She scooted 'cross the shore ice, and landed in the drink; 

The Yukon has a current there of seven mile an hour. 

And the savin' of Mariar Jane wuz beyond all earthly power; 

Besides, my boat wuz half a mile away, up in a little slough, 

And Mariar and her sled and load wuz quickly lost to view. 

Two miles below, I found the sled, hung up on a gravel bar. 

But no trace of my old woman, though I hunted near and far; 

She went to feed the Yukon fish, that fed her all her life. 

Every silver salmon I've ketched since I think of my poor wife. 

In lookin' round the wreckage I diskivered right away. 

What caused Mariar's trouble, when she tried to stop the sleigh; 

She'd hitched the rough-lock, sure enough; but careless like, poor soul. 

Instead of hookin' 'round the runner, she put it on the pole. 

Yes; the old gal's gone; I'll never see the likes of her again, 

I'd ruther lose old Towser, than poor Marar Jane." 



16 The Eskimo's Confession 



The Eskimo's Confession 

t^ t^ t^ 

^ like um white man's kow kow, 
<^ I like um Lipton's tea, 
I like um butter, milluk, bread. 

And plenty good coffee; 
I like um hardbread, rice and eggs, 

I like um hot cakes flat, — 
But I like um ook-schook best of all. 

More better'n bacon fat. 

I like um white man's shoop-oon, 

I kill um plenty clean 
Some tarmichans and weasels, fox. 

And maybe wolferine; 
I kill um wah-us in the spring. 

Wild-goose and duck and teal. 
But I like um best kill oog-er-ook — 

All same white man's big seal. 

I like um thermos bottle, 

I like um graf-um-fome, 
I like um plenty money 

When I take um trip to Nome; 
I like um white man's stove to cook, 

I like um cut plug, ca! 
But mukluks, parkie — Eskimo, 

To shut out ah-lah-pa. 

I hke um white man's go-to-school, 

I like um read and write, 
I plenty savvy draw and sing. 

But I no like um fight; 
I like um go to church and pray, 

And go church every chance, — 
But better'n all dis white man's fun 

Is Eskimos' big dance. 



An Octurn 17 



AN OCTURN 

t^^ %^ t^^ 

G^ somber, sodden, sullen sky, 
(^Z^ A large, fat gob of gloom 
Envelopes everything in sight. 

As joyless as the tomb; 
A blight is on the face of things, 

Like a pumpkin with a dent. 
The whole darned world is on the bum, 

Since 

Boulie 

Girl 
has 
went. 



The birds don't sing — ptarmigans can't, 

They're full of willow buds, 
Welch doesn't sing — he only sings 

When full of Rainier suds, 
Ramsay is not allowed to sing, 

Though full of good intent, 
I don't sing — I'm full of prunes, 

Since 
Bouhe 

Girl 
has 

went 



18 An Octurn 



The cats don't purr — the dogs don't howl 

(May God forgive that He.) 
The sun don't seem two candle power, 

The moon is weak and shy, 
The flowers don't bloom a blooming bit. 

Their last sweet fragrance spent. 
The joss house hllies cashed their checks, 

Since 

Boulie 

Girl 
has 

went. 

The usual comforters of man, 

The Grape, the Malt, the Rye, 
Yield no nepenthe for my mood. 

How dry I am — how dry; 
Even my Lady Nicotine, 

With cabbage leaf seems blent. 
My brain storm's working overtime. 

Since 
BouUe 

Girl 
Has 

Went. 

I've no appetite — after meals, 
Can't lie awake — of nights 
Play reckless poker — with the stove, 
Turn down my friends — the lights, 
I feel the devil of unrest. 

My soulful temperament 
Is full of wheels of varied size. 

Since 
Boulie 

Girl 
Has 

Went. 



An Odurn 19 



My hearth stone has a stony look, 

My igloo seems a cell, 
My house work is a glowing sin, 

The whole ranch looks like Hel- 
En of Troy, or Avoirdupois 
Living upstairs in a tent, 
But what's the use? oh what's the use? 
Since 
Boulie 

Girl 
Has 

Went. 

To think this glorious vision came, 

A guest within my door. 
Her fairy number seven feet, 

Once sloshed across my floor. 
The shack, a sanctuary, pro tern 

Remembers that event 
Tis but a haunting memory though. 

Since 
Boulie 

Girl 
Has 

Went. 

Kay-no-me, when Easter's due 
(The eggs are on the blink) 
Black Friday, 'twas she flew the coop, 

That sable day, I think 
Should usher in, (it did for me) 

The penitential stunt called Lent, 
Sack cloth and ashes — Woe is me. 

Since 
Boulie 

Girl 

Has 
Went. 



20 The Malemute Chorus 



The Malemute Chorus 



^Jl^HE hum of frogs in plaintive minor keys, 
C^ The loon's lone autumn cry across the reach, 
The waiKng wintry winds through giant trees, 
And pounding waves upon a darkling beach, — 
Are notes of joy compared to that drear sound 
That sings from out the wolf-dog's lonely throat — 
Arousing others till the din profound 
Has tuned the North to one big funeral note; 
One doubts not that all damn'd souls faring forth 
Have taken lodgment in that piteous plea, — 
Condemned to fill the weird and beauteous North 
Forever with grim wails of agony; 
One doubts not that the choicest notes of hell 
Were mixed to yield that melancholy yelL 




To an Iconoclast 21 



To an Iconoclast 



C^^O you whose curt contempt of bluff 
^^ One cannot sing half loud enough, 
Whose vicious hate of old dead creeds 
Betrays how truly man's soul needs 
A living faith, whose quest for fact 
Breathes deeply through your smallest act, 
Whose glorious hospitaUty 
Is wide as ocean's Uberty, — 
To you I drain my deepest toast — 
My first and best Alaskan host. 



22 Rocker Lullaby 



Rocker Lullaby 



Air: — ''I want to be an angel!" (for the inexperienced) 

1i 



want to be a Rocker Man 
And by my rocker stand, 
With sweat upon my forehead 

And blisters on my hand; 
And with my homeopathic plant 

I'll reach out for the cush, 
And in the operator class 

I'll lead the whole damned push. 



I want to be a Rocker Man 

With a pay streak wide and deep, 
And when I clean my aprons 

The big mazuma reap; 
Great shining gobs of "yellow dross" 

And nuggets by the keg 
I want a Rocker Fellow wad 

And a poke Uke Smokie's leg. 

I want to be a Rocker Man 

And go out with the fleet. 
Eat at the Captain's table 

Roost in the bridal suite; 
And when I get to Frisco 

You'll hear the pikers shout 
"Here comes MacLennan" — damn the luck 

Just then my pipe went out. 



To My Lady of the Frontier 



23 




To My Lady of the Frontier 



^^ 



^"j^ S long as one such mighty soul as yours 
rVACan vibrate to the beatings of a heart 
Which loneliness devours, and mem'ry lures 
With homeland pictures of a hearth apart; 
As long as one such loving hand endures 
To give the touch that heals the weary brain 
Of all its earthy heaviness, and cures 
The selfish languor that would nurse the pain; 
So long, sweet spirit, shall earth's stragglers cling 
With hope to gleams that fringe the western hills, 
So long shall stranded sailors rise and sing 
That one kind ship the horizon's flatness fills, 
So long shall friendless mortals be secure 
In one true friend whose healing heart is pure. 




24 WhaVs Madder'n a Wet Hen? 



What's Madder'n a Wet Hen? 

(A WET DOCTOR) 

mHO is this comes on warlike steed, 
In Khaki clad for martial deed, 
Like Bobs himself? Gadzooks indeed, 

Can this be fancy? 
With pill-bags swung upon his back, 
With saw and scalping-knife in pack? 
Nay! By my haHdome — Good lack! 
'Tis Doctor Ramsay — 

Who throws the landscape to the rear? 
Who stems the river without fear, 
Till Peterson's deep ford is neaj, 

And deadly danger? 
Who is it shows his sporting blood, 
Who bravely breasts the oozy flood, 
Tho twelve feet deep and mostly mud? 

The sawbones ranger! 

Who is it knows that yesterday 
'Twas scant two feet— an easy play — 
Who gaily scorns to ask the way, 

Like haughty proctor? 
Who dives in this baptismal fount? 
Whose hfe is saved by trusty mount? 
(Russell and Peterson don't count) 

The gallant doctor! 

Who is it as an aftermath 
Emerges on the bridle path 
Erupting water, mud and wrath 

Like old Vesuvius? 
Who stands upon the further shore 
With garments wet and temper sore 
And dams the creek with dams galore? 

Antimagoovious. 



Verses Thanking the Ladies 25 



Verses Thanking the Ladies 

FOR HANGING CURTAINS IN THE A. B. HALL 

HE seamstress touch to man denied 
That rules with such unchallenged ken, 
Should brush the needle's skill aside, 
And show the deftness of the pen. 

For how can Adam's sons assay 

The objects women stitch and weave. 

And tell where gold, where dross doth lay 
Like expert Uneage of Eve? 

And how may versifier dare 

To sing of curtains, — ne'er before 

Included in a poet's fare 

Since Homer trod the Grecian shore? 

And yet 'twere better far to try, 

And sing of curtains horribly, 
Than spurn the task, and thus deny 

The royal brothers in the A. B. 

We know they're white and somewhat square, 
And tinge our hbrary with cheer, 

And know they add a something there 
That make men look and guess and fear. 

We know they add the woman's spell 
To rooms that bachelors frequent. 

Although we are not free to tell' 

What hints of home that spell has meant. 

So take, kind ladies, with this rhyme 
Camp Council's gratefulness profound; 

But curtain off this scribbled crime 
Beneath a heap of non-pay ground. 



26 Under the Pangingui Palms 



Under the Pangingui Palms 



(With apologies to the beer that made Milwaukee jealous) 

^ M' the main guy of the Pangingui Palms, 

<^ I'm the road agent without any qualms, 

I'm there with chimes on the booze and the food, 

I've got a dump that is all to the good; 

If I'd caught that bunch that came over from Nome, 

They'd all worn a C. O. D. tag going home, 

And the dredge dogs and muckers that came from the creek, 

I'd have flattened their pokes during Carnival Week. 



Chorus 

If they'd come, come, come and do biz with me 
Under the Pangingui Palms, 
Come, come drink a gin fizz with me 
Under the Pangingui Palms, 
Jonesy, Paul, Tapia, Bill Gallup and Ramsay, 
Earl, Billy Elms, Curt, John Dexter and Snow, 
Do, do, come and loosen up a few 
Under the Pangingui Palms. 



Under the Pangingui Palms 27 

Talk about the booze fighters Nome can produce, 
This is the place they can turn themselves loose, 
Those who have tried it have no further doubts, 
Council's the home of the big wasail bouts; 
Riley and Taggart they went on a spree, 
They tried to keep step with our friend Rodney D. ' 
He laid them both out and kept on playing tag, — 
Cole passed away with a big Red Cross jag. 

The big sweepstakes Race will soon be under way, 
Nome's booze clerks are busy, Nome's bookies are gay. 
The dog feed is packed and the dogs are in trim, 
If the driver's a quitter, may God pity him; 
It's a mighty bum trail and a mighty long track. 
Two hundred to Candle and six hundred back. 
The Scotch, Swedes, and white men are all going in, 
Good luck to the bunch. May the best bow-wows win. 




*From the Farce, "A Mixologist's Mistake," given in the A. B. Hall 
April 3d, 1912. 



28 To the Exponent of the Half Jag 



To the Exponent of the Half Jag 



21JLALF a jag, half a jag, 
<^i^ Half a jag leery, 
Into the valley of speech 

Rode Billy's theory; 
Forward the golden mean. 
Born on the farm Sabine, 
Changed to a might have been, 

Great Billy's theory. 

Forward the lightest beer, — 
Was there a man in cheer 
Too deep engrossed to steer 

Straight to his duty? 
Jonesie was on the deck. 
Gallop had draped his neck, 
Paul chewed gum by the peck, 

Barnett was tooty. 

Curt's milHonth wassail bout 
Had failed to wear him out, 
Still he could sing and shout. 

Scuppers half under; 
Ramsay was on the spot 
Whence he had budged not 
Since Soapy Smith was shot 

Out of his plunder. 

But where, O where, was Bill 
He whose sweet voice could thrill 
Hearts that had drunk their fill 

Worshipping Bacchus? 
Gone from the wassail bout. 
Gone from the song and shout. 
Ah, who could search him out 

And horribly rack us? 



To the Exponent of the Half Jag 29 



Some one too deep in wine, 
Mercury of truth divine, 
Into the inner shrine 

Of Saint Elmo's boudoir, 
Lx)oked and beheld the bed 
Whither our hero'd fled, 
And with sad heart sped 
To peddle his savoir. 

There robed in full attire 
Lay he who led the choir. 
Lay he whose speech of fire 

Sesquipedalian, 
Gave verve to all his tales. 
Made all his fishes whales. 
Made all his zephyrs gales, — 

Ossa on Pelion. 

And stretched along his breast 

Taking deserved rest, 

With loving care was pressed 

His clarinet weary; 
Farewell the classic tag, 
Farewell the jingling rag, 
Farewell the lost half jag, 

Perfect in theory. 




30 Farewell to Alaska 



Farewell to Alaska 



/jjX must I go back to the teeming "Outside" 
^^^ And live like the men in the cities of pride, 
Caught in the meshes of civiHzed life 
With its business, its books, and its wearying strife? 

Or shall I remain in this wild Arctic land 
Whose big grip of freedom is clutching my hand, 
And tugging my heart-strings, and bidding me stay 
On its trails, lakes and rivers, its mountains alway? 

In the crisp air of winter how thrilling to feel 
Husky malemutes leaping from leader to wheel. 
Watch the cold stars a-gleaming on oceans of snow. 
And the Northern Lights streaming in burgeoning glow! 

Then the long summer days where no night can abide 
How perfect down unexplored rivers to glide, 
With their grayling and salmon, teal, duck and wild-goose, 
And flowers ineffable blooming profuse! 

Yes, I shall go back to the home-folks, be gay. 
Once more join the swift-moving crowds on Broadway, 
But deep in my heart I shall know where to fly 
When the enslaving intensity leadens mine eye. 

Once more, dear Alaska, once more fly to thee, 
For thou art the home of my love, Liberty, — 
Wide breath-place of freedom, large element mine 
Where earth is still virgin and life still divine. 



